Flowers of Yesterday
by waterlilies52
Summary: War. An era of bloodshed when to lie is to live and trust is for the foolish. Unable to cope with this madness, one boy runs away from his destiny...only to land straight in the hands of fate. SxS AU
1. Un

Title: Flowers of Yesterday

Summary: War. An era of bloodshed when to lie is to live and trust is for the foolish. Unable to cope with this madness, one boy runs away from his destiny...only to land straight in the hands of fate. SxS AU

Disclaimer: I own nothing except the apple cinnamon flavored cereal in the bowl beside me.

**Chapter One: Dancers Perform Ballet, Politicians Direct Plays**

_--_

_**Text from the book**_

_Thoughts_

--

_**They were dancing.**_

_**The ballet dancer carefully arranged her long legs into position, tilting her right foot into the classic pointed stance that most professionals those days assumed. She proudly lifted her head and stared straight into the center of the audience. Her vivid green eyes seemed to hold a challenge in them as her gaze held our breaths, waiting. **_

_**I leaned heavily against the wall to my right and fiddled with the broom in my hands.**_

_**Almost everyone thinks of strength as a male trait, and connects it to weight lifting and bulging steroid-produced muscles. Not many realize that true strength comes from inside. The courage to brave your deepest darkest fears, to fight when you would want nothing else than to hide. To me, strength is to have the self-control to listen to mind over heart.**_

_**She was about to prove that to me.**_

_**Suddenly, a look of panic came across her face. Almost instantly, her face contorted into a pained expression, as if she remembered something horrid. A muscle in her cheek jumped, and even the thick layers of make-up masking her face couldn't hide the startling loss of color in her youthful complexion. She blinked rapidly a few times as a few strands of hair came out of her elegant bun.**_

_**But she could do it, put logic over desire that is. She was the very epitome of strength.**_

_**Her head lowered just a fraction of an inch before raising once again. The movement was almost imperceptible, and had I not been paying such close attention I doubt that even I would have been able to catch it. **_

_**For before I could even register this moment of weakness, she leaped away from the stage just as the first few tinkling notes floated through the air. Her slippers touched the ground for almost a second, and then she was off again. Relaxing her arms, she allowed herself to stretch complacently in the air before whirling around, never once straying from the beat. The chords seemed to surround her, creating a tangible aura in the theatre that we could almost touch. **_

_**Sakura Kinomoto didn't dance with the music. It danced with **_**her**_**. **_

_**Later I was to learn that she especially loved the feeling of flying in the air. For in that split second…she was free. The ropes of the society that she was born into were left behind on the ground as she raced with the melody. Even if it was only for a split second, she slowly became addicted to this moment of escape. It was like a drug to her, starting as a mere adrenaline rush, and eventually cascading to the point where she wouldn't feel complete without it.**_

_**She grinned as she danced.**_

"_**The Song of the Wind" was just another show, just one of the hundreds of performances in her blossoming career. To her, this would be remembered as a long night filled with hordes of fans asking for her autograph, if it were remembered at all.**_

_**As for me, this was the night adorned with a sky as black as a soft velvet dress. The stars that evening seemed like windows, spasms of light peeking through the black surroundings. And the moon, while not a perfect circle, was in a delicate crescent shape. It dangled in the sky tauntingly, so close that if I reached out my hand just a little bit more it would be in my grasp.**_

_**To me… I felt for the first time, the desire for something as far away as the yellow sliver of heaven in the sky that night.**_

_**She loved flying, and I loved to watch her fly.**_

_**She was rich, and I was poor.**_

_**She was an experienced performer, and I was looking for a job.**_

_**She was the unattainable and I…**_

_**I wanted nothing more than to have her notice me. To turn around, look me straight in the eye, and just smile.**_

_**But I ended getting more than I ever bargained for.**_

--

_Although this story seems to revolve on a single insignificant woman, keeping in mind the grander perspective of the world at the time, its purpose is to reflect on the lives of thousands in that era. I have selected this one person to portray the influences that time period had on my people._

_My best friend didn't understand this. He would take a deep swig of alcohol and attempt to lift the unoccupied hand and prod my chest with a finger, or with his whole hand depending on how impaired his coordination was at the point. Then he would stare at me._

_Eriol had this habit of sizing people up before he said anything that he deemed was important. However here in France, the rich didn't appreciate his impudence. I, on the other hand, have learned quickly. I doubt my current employer even knows what color my eyes are._

_Unsurprisingly, Eriol's employer is well informed of the fact that Eriol's eyes are as black and empty as a shadow. In turn, Eriol is also very familiar with the roughness of Mr. Danvers's hand._

_All of these thoughts soon scattered as Eriol continued to focus his eyes on me. Strange thing is, no matter how many times he does this; it never fails to intimidate me. _

"_You need to move on, Syaoran."_

_These words manage to come out as clear as day, although he's had over five bottles of drink. But then again, I wonder if he was even drunk in the first place. _

_We were both very closed people I suppose. On the outside it may appear that Eriol was the open, carefree gentleman who never hesitated to smile at anyone passing by (usually females) while I was the sullen loner who never bothered to raise his head. _

_And then I found out his father was a drunkard and that his mother worked at a brothel. _

_Apparently, his father had brought him up, if it could even be called that. Eriol was often the one who took care of him when he could barely hold himself up, stumbling up the steps to their two-room apartment. _

_The saddest thing of all? His dad was considered the active parent in the family. And for that, Eriol loved the old man unconditionally. Imagine that: willing to risk your life for someone who allowed you to sleep in the same room as them._

_It almost makes me guilty when I think about how I treated my own family._

_Back to the subject at hand, he was fourteen when he discovered his father lying lifelessly on the bedroom floor. The fifty-something-year-old man had (finally) died of alcohol poisoning. When the paramedics arrived to take the body away however, they were baffled by the smile on Keiichi Hiiragizawa's face. Evidently, the senior Hiiragizawa's life wasn't exactly filled with sunshine either, as he welcomed death with open arms._

_But Eriol moved on. It's been twelve years, and the only time, he even mentioned his childhood was when he told me all this. It was his father's death anniversary, and on top of that, he was _extremely_ drunk. _

_Nevertheless, besides that conversation, I don't remember one time when we confided in each other. And yet, we both know that we're the only things we have left in this world- best friends. Brothers, even, but that doesn't mean he has to know all about me. I've had my share of problems, too, but that's over and done with now._

_Moreover, all this is completely off topic; what I'm trying to write is a story about what happened in the most romantic city of the world, not annoying family problems about my life before I escaped to France. Ever since I stepped on that boat, Xiao Lang Li, a rich and pampered boy who had everything fed to him with a golden spoon since the day he was born, died without even a trace of his existence. And 'Syaoran' replaced him._

_Nevertheless perhaps…when the occasion calls for it…I might mention bits of it in passing. Maybe this will help me relieve the few happy memories I have of that cold palace in which I grew up._

_There were some, I have to admit. I even developed a shy affection for my cousin who, unlike the other women around me, was loud and outspoken. _She _was never afraid to tell her parents what she thought of them. I, on the other hand, would just shuffle along, lurking in the shadows as I always did. Running away to Paris was probably the only act of rebellion I had ever done in my life. _

_Back to the matter at hand, I would just to like the reinstate that this is not some trashy romance novel. Just a good, honest-to-God memoir. _

_To be truthful, I'm not even sure if I ever loved her. What is love anyway? Let's get one thing straight here. I do not, by any means, believe in the fairy-tale dreamy rubbish otherwise known as love. "Love" itself is merely a trick of evolution. A paradox. Some say that love is selfish by wanting to keep the person you love next to you; others claim you should set her free. Complete and utter nonsense._

_Obsession exists, obviously. Perhaps even a type of deep-rooted devotion that can bind two people to stay together for half a century, but love? No. That's just a delusion created by weak and foolish minds that need to "think with their heart". I'd rather think with my mind and not some whimsical impulse, thank you very much._

_She taught me that, by the way. Ironically, I thought at that time that I was in love with her. Ha-ha, I actually believed that I had fallen head over heels in love with a woman whom I had never had a conversation that lasted more than three sentences._

_Amazing. I cringe at the thought of it._

_We were standing on a balcony, watching the stars together - the perfect romantic setting. My 18-year-old self seemed to think so too, for I was particularly flustered that evening. My tie was almost choking me due to my inexperience with the knot, and my western suit was hanging about as comfortable as cardboard on my body. Back in China, I was accustomed to the soft and form-fitting silk robes that my maids slaved over for months to make. But here I was no longer pampered and waited on like royalty, and it was only by luck that I even had a suit in the first place. _

_It's been years since that day, and yet I need only to close my eyes to feel the cold metal that I was leaning against that night. Of course, I don't remember what exactly we were talking about. Something along the lines the war that was wreaking havoc in the countries of the Eastern Hemisphere, I suppose. Oddly enough, the insignificant irrelevant details of that evening have persisted. For example, she was wearing a blue formal evening gown with a small jade pendant necklace. Yellow light streaming through the open doors from the hotel managed to catch its luster, giving the green stone a soft shine. _

--

My pen continued to move in my hand, but my mind was months and months away.

Somewhere, I hear the doorknob to the apartment door turning, but I was too concentrated on transferring memories onto parchment to really care. My body is bent over the edge of my desk, and the scratch of a pen on paper is the only sound in the room.

It's times like these that I can remember, and imagine and just…**live again.**

--

_I remembered thinking dazedly that the way they twinkled was strikingly similar to the stars in the sky above us. Apparently, my brain was not functioning at the moment._

_And the way that her eyes seemed to glow in the moonlight - _

--

"Like the stars in the sky?" Eriol scoffed and I immediately snapped my head up, "I can't believe that a man is writing this." He batted his eyes and said in a high falsetto voice, "Oh _Syao_-ran, this is just _so_ sweet! I like _love_ you, now!" Alarmed, I stared at what I just wrote before. _Holy shit._

I coughed and raised an eyebrow, "I don't expect her to act like that."

Eriol looked at me disbelievingly, "Then what do you expect to be gaining from this," he jabbed one of the many papers that my desk was hiding under, "crap? Be honest with yourself, Syaoran. You can't honestly be doing this to 'portray the influences that time period had on my people.' Is it because the radio had nothing interesting on?"

"And why not?" I smirked, "I have gotten bored of the never-ending holiday music anyway. There's a reason why Christmas comes from the word 'Christians'."

"You don't have to be religious to enjoy Christmas. Ever heard of the joy of giving?"

"Hm," I pondered thoughtfully for a moment and even scratched my chin for a Sherlock-Holmes effect. "No, not really." He sighed exasperatedly before heaving me out of my seat roughly and dragging me to the window.

We arrived at our destination, a grand total of seven steps from my desk. "You can let go now." I had gotten tired of joking around, and my hand was itching to continue the scene from earlier.

"Look out there."

I rolled my eyes, "I get it. I spend too much time inside writing some useless story, I should go outside more, enjoy life, yada yada yada. Now can you let me go?"

"I said, _look_." If he meant to catch my attention, it worked.

"All right then, I'll look. Sheesh, no reason to get your knickers in a bunch," I muttered in an effort to appease him and turned my head away from Eriol's heated glare to glance at the snowy grounds below us outside.

It looked like it always did. Even though it was already morning, thick gray clouds prevented any attempts of natural light. Instead, the old street lamps cast a dull glow on the filthy streets, illuminating a store name here and there, and even without opening my eyes I knew from the mixed smell of cabbages and tomatoes where the trashcan was. "What am I supposed to see again?"

That's when he lost it. His mind, his composure, all rationality went down to the drain.

"What are you supposed to see?" He grabbed my head and smashed it against the panes so forcefully that my nose was smeared against the cold glass.

"Those starving children on the street corner maybe? That pregnant woman carrying a baby in her arms, looking for a baby-sitter because the father just died in a recent epidemic? That old lady hobbling around begging for money to get her grand-kids into school?"

Despite my initial shock, my excessively large ego apparently couldn't take this sudden and entirely unnecessary lecture. Besides, Eriol had a bit of a problem of not being able to contain digestive juices where they belong, so I wiped off a few drops that had managed to find its way up to my face before retaliating with a few ugly words myself. I followed it up with a sharp tug to get my arm free. "Damn it, Eriol! What the hell is your problem today?!"

Eriol yanked his jacket from the hook on the wall. "You want to know what my problem is? My problem is that I am sick and tired of putting up with this shit. There's a world out there, Syaoran. And if you'd only get off your ass and stop wasting your life blubbering about one failed relationship, you'd actually see some of it."

And without another word he stomped away, snatching the keys that were hanging from a nail, and slammed the door so hard that I could hear some bits of plaster falling from the walls. His heavy footsteps echoed down the hallway, and I caught a few snatches of "that ungrateful bastard" and "don't know what to do with him".

I stared dazedly at the door. Never, in all the years that I met Eriol, have we ever had a fight like that. An argument or two, maybe, but never a full-blown, ugly spat like today. I sighed and reached up to rub my temples.

After another moment or two of gawking at the messy array of shoes in the entrance, I stooped down to pick up the papers that fallen to the ground. _He didn't understand_, I told myself. _I'm __**not**__ doing this for myself. _I honestly do feel badly for the country I left behind, and if this relieves some of the pain, well, that wouldn't be necessarily a bad thing either.

_Now, where was I…?_

--

Half a world away, a young woman in her twenties woke up from her afternoon nap. She stretched her arms before smiling lazily at the sun beaming at her from the blue skies outside. Careful not to disturb the sleeping form beside her, she slipped out of the thick covers and made her way to the giant window that framed their bedroom to the east. The expensive carpet muffled her footsteps as she tiptoed past her little grooming corner that consisted of a dainty table with a white chair to match, a wide array of make-up in every color imaginable, and a beautiful oaken jewelry box.

After a couple more complacent yawns, she came to the foot of the light that was shining through a crack in the curtains. With a gentle tug of her hands, the sheer muslin material separated easily, revealing a picturesque landscape. A few mansions similar to the one that she was staying in dotted the streets in the distance. The area that they were situated was considered the "city"; yet because of its well-off residents the roads were neatly kept, and all of the stores even down to the lowliest apple cart had a smart, dignified appearance.

Just sixty miles away lay the real city, in all its polluted glory. But here where the richest of the rich dined and frolicked; this was their home, their utopia.

This tranquil neighborhood was where Sakura Tsukishiro lived.

--

A/N: Edited as of 8-2-03, split the uberly long chapter one into two among other miscellaneous changes. Confused about the chapter title? No matter, all will be revealed soon. On a side note, I wonder if anyone is still on when there's a much better source of entertainment on this particular day…-coughBREAKINGDAWNcough- ahem. As always…

**Approbation is appreciated, flames are forgiven, constructive criticism is coveted, and reviewers are revered.**


	2. Deux

Title: Flowers of Yesterday

Summary: War. An era of bloodshed when to lie is to live and trust is for the foolish. Unable to cope with this madness, one boy runs away from his destiny...only to land straight in the hands of fate. SxS AU

Disclaimer: Lalala, blahblahblah, yadayadayada. Only the plot is mine.

**Chapter Two: People Tell Stories, Cameras Show Truth**

Enjoy!

* * *

Sakura rubbed the jade rabbit around her neck, its surface already beginning to dull from the old habit. _If only you were here to see this too…_

Yukito wrapped his arms around her waist, accidentally interrupting her reverie and inciting a small "oh!" from her lips. "I'm sorry, did I startle you?"

She shifted slightly in her position so that she could smile at him properly. "I thought you were still asleep."

"Well, I _was_, but then the bed got cold. It's much warmer here," he burrowed his face into her thick auburn hair to prove his point. "Mmm… I'm in a forest of cherry blossom trees."

Sakura laughed and pushed him away, "It's called perfume, dear. Ever heard of it?"

He poked her elbow, "Well then, be sure to put some more on before we go to the conference tonight."

She raised her eyebrow. "We? Last time I checked, only one of us was Lieutenant General of the entire Japanese army."

He laughed, "No, what we're going to this evening is more of a press conference. The type you women dress all pretty and give sugarcoated answers to money-hungry newspaper reporters."

"Ah, that kind." She tapped a manicured finger to her chin, "A kimono then?"

"Mm-hm. Not too fancy, though. Maybe the light blue one that you wore to the General's banquet a few weeks ago?"

"That one _is_ rather pretty," she agreed and then sighed. "One of these days your fashion sense is going to be even better than mine."

Yukito laughingly began pushing her towards the bathroom, "Go change; I'll pretend that was a compliment." He opened the door and stuck his head into the corridor, "Mizuki, can you come help your mistress change please?"

Sakura sputtered, "I can put on clothes by myself, thank you very much."

Yukito gave her a lopsided grin and retorted, "What's the point of having money if you can't enjoy it?" He pretended to knead her shoulders. "_Relax_, honey."

Sakura swatted his hands away before stalking off towards the bathroom, accompanied by a shy maid who was struggling to carry all the pieces of the elaborate kimono. "You are so infuriating sometimes."

"Love you too!" He yelled across the room and was responded with a loud slam of the door.

Yukito chuckled.

-

Sakura leaned against the wooden doors and reached up to feel her cheeks. They burned under her cool touch. _Damn it, he probably saw._ Yet she could feel the corners of her mouth pulling into a reluctant smile, as she remembered his unnecessary -yet also very adorable - declaration of affection. _Damn it._

"Excuse me miss?" Mizuki attempted to gesture toward the fabrics that she was struggling under.

"Um, just leave those on the table of there. I'll call you if I need any help," Sakura saw a glimpse of herself in the mirror. "On second thought, come back in around ten minutes to do my hair, please."

Glad to relieve her tired arms from the heavy kimono, her maid dropped the clothing in a very unorganized lump on said chair and fled the room. Sakura smiled, _I remember when I used to be intimidated by the people who seemed to be better than me._

_And yet, the only thing different from the two of us is the gold wedding band circling my fourth finger. Do you know that, Mizuki? _

_Are you aware of how close I avoided the fate that you cry every night about?_

--

Just a few feet away, Mizuki Daidouji gazed admiringly at the beautiful tapestries that she could never dream to own.

_Screw it all, _she frowned._ It just isn't fair. Why must she have the perfect life? What's wrong with me?_ Catching a glimpse of her face in the mirror, the answer stared back at her.

It certainly was a cruel world.

--

Meiling carefully placed her right hand on the heavily adorned chair in front of her before bending her left knee a little to lean her weight to the side. Then promptly shifted again. Discovering that this did practically nothing to alleviate the pain caused by her "stylish" shoes, she straightened up and let out a sigh._ Who ever invented shoes with a heel in the __**middle **__should go to hell._

"Stop fidgeting," her aunt hissed into her ear. Somehow, Yelan managed to convey a dangerous tone whilst still smiling charmingly at the cameraman.

Meiling bit back a sharp retort and instead tried to divert her attention away from the bruises that were slowly starting to form on her ungainly feet. They, as in the whole royal family, were standing in a corner of the imperial garden. The scenery was rather picturesque that afternoon ,what with large willow trees fanning over a glittering pond and a clear, cloudless sky to complete the picture. _A perfect day to run barefoot through the grass_, Meiling gazed at the pretty surroundings blissfully. _If only I didn't have to take this stupid picture._

Unfortunately the nature, however beautiful, didn't make up for the pitiful company. Not to say that they weren't good-looking people. Truth be told all of them were rather gorgeous, and even if they weren't born with it, some powder to conceal the blemishes always did the trick. Personalities, Meiling realized, were slightly harder to conceal.

The most important women of the family were surrounding the chair on which the king was currently lounging on, in order from the highest status to the least. The king decided who was the most important of course. It was only by a small stroke of luck (or cruel twist of fate?) that Meiling was even in the picture at all.

There was the king's mother, Ci Xi the Empress Dowager, who obviously stood to the left of the king. Yelan had snagged the spot to the right, much to the dismay of Mistress Zi Wei. She didn't make much effort to hide her disgust, judging by the sides of her kimono brushing by Yelan's every few seconds as she tried her best to stand as close as possible to the Emperor. _Pathetic_. Then there were the other less favored wives all crowding behind the throne.

Meiling watched her aunts have a nonverbal battle of insults in the corner of her eye. Translation of the glares probably went something along these lines:

"Excuse me, I believe you're in **my** spot."

"Oh really? Funny, I didn't see King Li go to **your** bedroom last night. Or the night before. In fact, when was the last time he came again?" A fake smile.

Strangely however, Queen Yelan was uncharacteristically aloof from this. _Pfft._ Meiling didn't want to think about the queen- thinking about things like this always made her head hurt. _Like I care, I'm not even important. _She stared at a gate just a few meters away from where they were standing. It would only take her ten seconds to walk over to the door, another fifteen minutes to weave through the intricate palace (give or take a few depending on which guard was patrolling), to arrive at the secret east entrance. Not even half an hour and she would be free.

The thought was so tempting that she had to restrain her feet from kicking off the instruments of torture and sprinting like crazy towards freedom. As if she could read her mind, Yelan turned slightly to the right and frowned.

The message in her eyes was clear: "move one step, and I'll make sure a certain someone's vacation will be over will be over before you can say 'Paris.'"

Meiling sighed. _The things I do for love._ She continued to gaze into the distance, and her mind drifted off to a better place where women were equal to men, sons didn't have the entire fate of the family on their shoulders, and the nation's economy didn't depend on how many shipments of opium came in per day.

The camera saw a bunch of men and women trying desperately to fawn over an overweight stern aristocrat sitting in the middle. Yet to the side, there stood a young girl in her early twenties. Her hair was arranged into an elegant bun, with an ornate hairpiece to complete the oriental effect. White hands clasped themselves delicately in front of her kimono which, although certainly not as elaborate as the other ones that adorned the older women, seemed to suit the princess in its modest simplicity. Thick layers of makeup hid her face, but a pair of determined bright eyes stared into the distant horizon, dreaming of a place where she belonged.

The shutter clicked.

--

After a short exchange of pleasantries the mailman turned away, leaving a bit richer than when he arrived. His pockets jingled with change as he sauntered jauntily to the stairs of the apartment complex.

"Is it from your cousin?"

Syaoran just smiled before lifting an eyebrow at Eriol. "I thought you were busy pouting somewhere."

Eriol pretended to sigh dejectedly and flopped onto a couch, "The bars were closed. The wine in the cupboard had an undeniable attraction to me, pulling me closer and closer to this filthy room."

Syaoran scoffed, "It wouldn't be this dirty if you didn't clean your half once in a while, you know. Haven't you noticed that the side next to the window, namely **my** territory, is perfect and immaculate in all its organized glory? You could eat off of my floors."

"Just because you're a sissy little housewife doesn't mean you should be ragging on us real men," Eriol puffed his chest out and managed to keep a straight face while poking himself decisively in the abdomen.

"Real men?" Startled, Syaoran looked around the room. "Where?"

Eriol deflated. "Har-har."

Syaoran laughed and sat down next to his friend, "You know I was only joking, Eriol. Did I bruise your precious ego?"

"It's already been bruised enough for one day, thank you very much. Split in half, pounded, and stomped on repeatedly actually."

"Another bad run-in with the boss?"

"Hardly. That's the worst part. You should've seen the way he looked at me, it gave me goosebumps." Eriol shuddered and closed his eyes in an effort to block out the memory.

"I'm lost."

He cracked open an eyelid. "He threatened to relocate me."

Syaoran laughed. "And here I thought it was something big. Where did he say he was going to send you this time? South Africa?"

"Japan."

"What?! That's crazy!" Syaoran dropped the envelope that he was holding. "There's practically a war going on over there! Hell, the ship that you sail to get there could be attacked by enemy missiles!"

"You don't have to tell me that." Eriol groaned and covered his face with his hands. "Maybe that's why he's sending me there."

"You mean to be killed? I doubt it. Mr. Danvers is an old fart, but he doesn't seem like the cruel sadistic type." He gave Eriol a light punch in the shoulder. "Don't worry about it."

"No, I meant the first part of what you said. It would make sense since I'm the best¾" A funny look came across Eriol's face, and he stopped in the middle of his sentence.

"Best…? Best what?" Eriol's face had turned white, and he suddenly couldn't seem to control the fingers that had decided to start tapping against his thigh. "Why are you fidgeting all of a sudden?"

"Wha-? I'm not fidgeting." This earned him a blank stare.

Eriol pointed at the envelope on the table and cleared his throat. "So, who's that from?"

Deciding to drop the previous topic, Syaoran grinned. "No one in particular."

"This no one must be pretty important if it's what's making his best friend so happy all of a sudden. What'd Mei Ling write?" He attempted to snatch the manilla packet up, but it disappeared from the table just as Eriol's hand shot forward.

"Nuh-uh," Syaoran shook a finger at him with another smile. "Private. And besides she didn't write much, just a short 'how are you doing' type of thing."

"Right."

"No, seriously! Look," he took something out of the envelope, " 'blah blah blah, hope you're having fun in Europe, blah blah blah.' Nothing worth reading." To emphasize his point, he placed it on the coffee table and propped his feet up in a relaxed manner.

"Oh, really? What were all those blah-blah-blahs then?"

"Nothing of importance." Syaoran began to hum a tune that they had heard in a nightclub a few days earlier.

_BAM!_ Two hands slammed on the envelope, one slightly slower than the other, making the innocent mahogany table shudder under the combined weight. Syaoran's feet dropped to the floor and dug into the carpet as the two men engaged into an intense game of tug-of-war. "WHAT THE HELL, ERIOL?"

"Oh-kay, so that didn't work too well." Eriol muttered through gritted teeth as he attempted to wrestle the envelope from Syaoran's iron grip. "It's just some letter! Damn it, why won't you let me see it?" At first he'd just wanted to get his attention away from Mr. Danvers, but now with Syaoran acting all weird…

Eriol was a bit curious.

Syaoran glared at him heatedly. "Why won't you mind your own fucking business?"

They were now standing up, each trying to get the upper hand in the situation. Finally unable to stand it any longer, Eriol lifted his right leg and kicked Syaoran as hard as he could in the shin, making him yelp and release the letter. "Thank you." He wiped the sweat from his forehead and began to calmly open the package as if the immature fight had never taken place.

Syaoran promptly appeared in front of him to snatch it away. Eriol sputtered.

"H-how did you-?" He grabbed his hair exasperatedly. "Forget it."

"Martial arts, my dear friend. Years and years of it," Syaoran patted him on the back sympathetically, his anger and the envelope having mysteriously disappeared. "Well," he began to whistle cheerfully as he made his way to the door, "now that that's over with, I have somewhere I need to be. Later, man."

Eriol narrowed his eyes at his friend's retreating back. "What are you hiding from me, Syaoran Li?" Processing what he'd just muttered under his breath, he almost laughed. _I'm such a hypocrite._

On the other side of the door, Syaoran slumped dejectedly against the solid frame.

_I'm sorry, Eriol._ _It's for your own good._

It certainly wouldn't benefit Eriol in any way to see a picture of his cousin with the royal family. Or more specifically, his sweet innocent cousin - the one that he'd constantly ramble when he got homesick - belonging **to** the royal family. It would cause questions, and Syaoran didn't feel like spilling the beans just yet.

_I've been doing it for years; another few years is nothing._

And yet, it was getting harder and harder to keep everything under wraps. In the beginning Eriol was polite and courteous, never once trying to invade his personal space. But over the past year, or more accurately the past few weeks, Eriol had become especially suspicious of who he really was. It was only yesterday that Eriol had found an expensive jade pendant on Syaoran's dresser and upon the discovery, immediately began firing questions.

Thankfully, the take-out boy chose to ring the bell at this precise moment, allowing Syaoran to get away with a muttered response ("found it in a thrift store…it's probably fake") before rushing hurriedly to open the door.

From then on, he was especially careful to hide any traces of his secret.

Into cardboard boxes went all of his old possessions. Not there were many of them. The few things that he had managed to smuggle out with were a bundle of faded photographs, a couple of worn books, and some money. Eriol had provided everything else.

It was part of their deal after all.

That was another secret, to the outside of the world at least. Syaoran and Eriol had made a bargain: Eriol uses his connections to help him escape, gives him food and shelter, and generally provides as a support until Syaoran adapts to his new life. In return, Syaoran would work for him.

It was an odd arrangement, to say the least. For one thing no one knew about it.

Those had been Syaoran's only conditions: no one ever found whom he was, what he was doing here, or how he got here. At the time, Eriol had just accepted it without hesitation, thinking that Syaoran was just one of the many desperate students in China eager to escape the political turmoil that suffocated its inhabitants.

But when he first set eyes on Syaoran, he knew that this was no normal man. Just from the mere lift of his chin as he walked down the pier to Eriol from the ship, Syaoran was making it very clear that this was an equal relationship. Whatever Eriol had been expecting, well…

Eriol had prepared himself to see a fellow Asian man with geeky glasses shuffling shyly down the bridge, all the while giving frightened glances at the foreign surroundings. He was right about which continent Syaoran came from him, but that was pretty much where the similarities ended.

With the dignity of a king and the grace of a martial artist, Syaoran Li had sauntered haughtily over to Eriol's shocked figure, his handsome appearance already drawing an admiring crowd.

Definitely not the average Chinese nerd.

However despite his arrogant appearance, Eriol found Syaoran to be quite the opposite. For the moment that Syaoran had completed his journey across the globe and found himself standing in front of his new boss, he looked straight into Eriol's eyes and promptly bowed so low that his face was completely hidden by his newly cut bangs.

"I cannot express in words my gratitude towards you, Hiiragizawa-san."

Eriol gaped at him for a moment before coming to his senses and helping the boy straighten up. Almost letting out a sigh of relief, he grinned at Syaoran. Then without further ado, he informed him solemnly, "Here in the west we shake hands."

And with just as much severity Syaoran replied, "I know. I just felt bowing was more appropriate for the occasion."

Instead of being offended as he should by Syaoran's lack of manners, Eriol's smile seemed to grow even wider. "Then I should return the favor." He bent over, the smirk never leaving his face, and gestured for Syaoran to go first. "Please."

A startled look managed to flit itself across his face before disappearing quickly under an identical smirk to the one that Eriol was sporting. Finding his way to an apartment building that he'd never been to before in a **continent** he'd never set foot on? Bring it on.

Syaoran stepped forward.

That night after three hours of wandering mindlessly around the city (prolonging what should have been a half an hour taxi ride), Eriol raised his champagne glass in congratulations.

"Two hours and fifty-seven minutes to find the second most famous hotel in Paris. Well done."

"Why, thank you."

The glasses clinked.

* * *

A/N: Historical facts have been altered due to creative license. I'm not writing this story to help explain the war, but rather using the war to write my story. Capiche?

Next chapter…Sakura and Syaoran meet! -toothy grin-

**Approbation is appreciated, flames are forgiven, constructive criticism is coveted, and reviewers are revered.**


	3. Trois

_**Title: Flowers of Yesterday**_

_**Summary: It's the early 1900s, an era of bloodshed when to lie is to live and trust is for the foolish. Unable to cope with this madness, one boy manages to run away. SxS**_

_**Disclaimer: I own nothing except the half empty bottle of Gatorade next to my pen. Or half empty, whatever floats your boat.**_

_**Chapter Two: Prisoners Escape From Jail, Children Flee From Life**_

_**Enjoy!**_

_--_

The door glided smoothly against its hinges as the usher gestured him in. After dropping a few coins in the man's hands Eriol swept into the room, his cloak billowing behind him.

"You're late."

Eriol smirked and showed his teeth in an almost conceited smile. "On the contrary my dear, I would like to believe that everyone is simply early. It's a 'is the glass half empty or half full' thing."

Kaho laughed, handing him a menu. "You and your ridiculous logic; only oxymorons could describe someone like you."

"I'll take that as a compliment." He took her small hands and gently pressed his lips against each knuckle, making Kaho turn redder with every kiss. "Waiter?" A young man in his early twenties dressed in a smart white button-up instantly materialized by his side. "What do you recommend?"

The waiter rolled his eyes. "I recommend that you look at the menu in your hands."

Eriol widened his eyes. "I'm appalled! Kaho, we must leave; the service is atrocious! The workers do not even bother to address the customers with at least a basic 'Monsieur' or a 'Mademoiselle.' Disrespect just radiates from the glare that that man is shooting me, don't you think?"

In response Kaho flicked Eriol's nose with her forefinger. "We'd like our usual please, Syaoran, and rush the cooks a bit for me, would you?" In one swift move she took the menu from Eriol, handed it to Syaoran, and planted a kiss on her date's cheek. "Thanks."

Syaoran nodded, "It'll be ready for you in twenty minutes."

Kaho smiled. "By the way, do we get a discount, Syaoran? It is a special occasion after all."

"Special occasion?" Eriol's eyes widened. "Bugger, did I miss your birthday again?"

Syaoran ignored him and chose to instead direct his reply to Kaho. "I'll have to ask my boss…" He noticed a bulge in Eriol's pockets. "Just as a side note, you might want to give her that necklace now before she actually thinks that you forgot."

Eriol grinned sheepishly and reached into his coat, taking out an elegant oblong case lined in blue velvet, and flipped open the clasp.

"Happy two year anniversary, Kaho Mizuki."

--

Meiling scampered off the ledge and let herself drop, using the soft grass to muffle the sound of her feet. Hurriedly throwing off the kimono that she had loosely buttoned over a faded blue peasant's outfit, she carelessly stuffed the priceless dress behind a nearby bush before darting behind a pillar. After the guard passed by, she let out a sigh of relief.

And then stiffened.

"And where do you think you're going Meiling?" Meiling screwed her eyes shut for a half-second, mentally weighing her options.

_Sorry Yelan…_

And without another thought she kicked her aunt in the abdomen. Caught off guard Yelan crumpled on the ground, knocked unconscious from the hit.

Meiling shook her head, trying to clear her head for a moment. _Focus Mei. _Forcing herself not to run away she grabbed Yelan's shoulders and dragged her out of the garden's walkway. _Where to hide, where to hide, where-_

Catching sight of a nearby plum tree, she smiled. _Perfect._

Meiling began dragging again, almost collapsing under the weight. _All right, you can do this! _Wiping her face that was now nearly soaking with sweat, she tightened her hands around Yelan's sleeve. _Each pull is one more step closer to freedom, _she reminded herself. Meiling grinned, _not to mention a little nearer to Syaoran also._

_I wonder what he's doing right now anyway…_

_--_

"Syaoran listen to me."

I grunted.

"So. I have some news."

"Then what are you waiting for?" I kept my eyes glued on the newspaper in front of me, _**"Debates over the long-term effects of the attack range widely from the incredulous to the bizarre…"**_

Eriol cleared his throat hesitatingly. "Well I was thinking. Er, no, scratch that. Um I was wondering would you, would you…would you"

"And what would I like to do exactly?" **"**_**Some researches claim that this will result in decades of blood flow from both sides, and political orators proclaim in confident declarations that 'World War II is at our steps' and to 'be prepared for the inevitable'. For now it seems that battles are limited to radio talk shows and platform speeches…"**_

"Well you know how my boss has been practically breathing down my back recently?"

"M-hm…" _**"…and so far few hands have been stained. Yet the world holds its breath as the Japanese recruit another regime of soldiers. Not to mention, it doesn't seem as if jail bars can block Adolf Hitler's fiery rhetoric from the German people. And as for the Soviet Union, communism has stepped from Marx's journals onto the world stage with a spectacular entrance."**_

"**_Only time will tell what will become of the stock-piling of weapons around the world. That, or common sense. _-article by Touya Kinomoto, L'Express****_"_**

"What do you think about going to Japan today?"

My head snapped up. "Pardon?"

Eriol sat down onto the couch next to me and leaned forward so that we were face-to-face.

A tête-à-tête.

"All right, so remember how last time I mentioned that old Danvers was threatening to relocate me?"

"Go on."

"It turns out" he took off his glasses and began to wipe his glasses slowly. "Thatwe'releavinginthreehours."

I practically threw the newspaper off my lap and whipped the reading glasses off of my head, letting them land in a crash on the glass table and seized Eriol's shoulders.

"THREE HOURS?! What the hell?! Why didn't you tell me earlier? Now I have to pack, ask my boss for a leave of absence, think of some excuse, write a letter to Meiling explaining where I am, mail the letter, and OH GOD what am I going to tell her?" I shook my hands furiously. "I can't tell her that I'm in Japan! She might figure out my relationship with you!"

Eriol couldn't help but laugh at this, despite the situation that they were in. "Sorry, I have a girlfriend. I'm flattered that you would think of me that way though."

"Shut up Eriol! She still thinks that I came here on a scholarship… I can't even begin to imagine her reaction once she discovers that I practically sold myself."

"You did sell yourself."

I glared at him. "Yes I did, and to the most conniving bastard that I've ever met in my life. Thanks for reminding me."

"Oh come on," Eriol laughed nervously. "How bad could it be?"

"Very." I muttered darkly.

Somehow, Eriol ignored my murderous expression and continued. "I mean Japan's not exactly huge, but I'm sure we won't see _her_ in our stay there."

I flustered and felt my face heat up. "I wasn't thinking about that."

"Sure you weren't Syaoran. Which reminds me, don't forget that you're 'Syaoran' now. Japanese. Not Chinese, not at home with your family."

"Not free." I deflated. "Not anymore."

He said nothing as I stared out the window, listing my pros and cons.

He watched as I left the room.

He listened as I wordlessly packed my belongings.

He told me that my boss was already informed of my departure.

He nodded when I told him that I would write to Mei in Tokyo.

Eriol shut the door.

--

I smiled, took another sip of my tea, giggled softly at Admiral Kunimitsu's joke, complimented his wife on her delicious biscuits, and smiled again. Every few minutes I repeated the process, albeit slightly varying the recipient of my compliments. _Two more to go and then I'll have gone full circle._ "Darling?"

Yuki turned towards me reluctantly. "Let me speak with the General for a moment, will you? Thanks. Uh, try some of the fish if you're bored; I hear they're fresh from the harbor." He pat my arm carelessly before turning to his left and resuming his conversation.

I counted to ten, smoothed my kimono a bit, and picked up my chopsticks. _Smile, drink, laugh, compliment, smile. _I took a deep breathe and exhaled slowly. _I can do this._

But the room felt especially stifling today and I could've sworn that I felt someone staring at me earlier. Almost subconsciously I turned my head to the left and looked around, using the impression of an adoring wife watching her husband talk as a pretense for my curiosity. _Let's see… there's a couple of waiters, soldiers, some businessmen, Hiiragizawa, more soldiers, and a group of entertainers playing the flute._

_Wait, _Hiiragizawa_?!_

_Isn't he supposed to be in Paris? _

_What's he doing here? Why hasn't he come over yet?_

…_Does this mean _**he**_**'s** here too?_

I tapped Yuki's shoulder. "I think I left something in the card room. Would it be all right if I left you for a few minutes to search for it?" He nodded, barely registering my words.

I escaped.

In an orderly fashion of course, and smiling benignly to the onlookers the entire way. Can't have anybody thinking that the new lieutenant general's wife was running for dear life, which in a sense, was exactly what I was doing. _Please don't let him see me, please don't let him see me, I'll do anything kami-sama, _anything, _honestly anything in the entire world as long as I can just avoid him tonight-_

"Sakura!"

…And as if on cue, I forced a smile onto my face for the umpteenth time that day.

--

"How long has it been? Four years? Five years?"

I bowed and replied demurely, "Actually I believe it's been a little under a year, Hiiragizawa-san." I smiled. "But then again my memory was never quite as good as yours."

He laughed and motioned for me to rise. "Nonsense Sakura, both of us know that you were always the clever one. And what's with all this 'Hiiragizawa-san' business? Good friends should at least refer to each other with their first names."

"As you wish."

"It does show how things have changed doesn't it? Only a year, and not even that. And yet look at you! All grown up all of a sudden with new clothes, new social status, ah" he gestured in Yuki's direction. "and let's not forget Tsukishiro-san either. How's that old geezer doing?"

"Yukito's health has been considerably better than usual lately, thanks to the new medicines recently imported from China. We appreciate your concern Hiiragizawa-san."

"There you go again! Hiiragizawa-san, Hiiragizawa-san, what happened to the girl who used to yell 'Eriol!' whenever I hid her ballet shoes?" I pursed my lips.

He ignored my awkwardness and chuckled. "Well seeing that my offer has been quite plainly turned down, I'll just have to reassure that this is just a stage that girl-women go through." The corners of his lips quirked up. "Oh my, you look a bit uncomfortable Sakura. Is something bothering you?" His dark eyes laughed at me.

_Bastard._ But I said nothing.

Eriol smirked. "Well then. I do believe it's time for me to change the subject," He roughly tugged the sleeve of the man standing stoically next to him. "Don't be rude; introduce yourself Syaoran."

I coughed into my sleeve. "Hiiragizawa-san it's been a pleasure seeing you again, but I see my husband signaling me in the distance. Enjoy the party." _And have fun torturing your next victim. _

--

I watched Sakura leave wordlessly and resisted the urge to punch the smirking man to my right.

"Well what are you waiting for?"

I growled at Eriol. "What the hell was that? We both know that you have something up your sleeve; I knew it, from the minute that you told me we were going to Japan, that you were planning something. I swear on all that's good and honorable that-"

"Just go." I narrowed my eyes.

And then I went after her.

--

_Ah, too bad I'm not holding the strings this time. _I stared wistfully into the distance. _No Syaoran, this time I'm a puppet just like you._

I laughed and lifted the cup to my lips, _Not that you'd ever believe that of course._

_--_

Catching up to her wasn't the hard part. It's what happens _after_ that's the problem.

We stared at each other, me blushing and her frozen. "Uh…"

All those sleepless nights, all those planned-out speeches and yet when I finally have the chance to say something, say _anything-_

"Nice shoes," I blurted out.

She shot me one of her blindingly beautiful smiles. "Thank you, would you like to borrow them some time?"

This only prompted me to turn into a dark shade of crimson. "No that's quite all right," I stuttered, more than a bit flustered.

She tilted her head to the side. "Sorry, but I'm not sure we've met." She bowed, "Sakura Kinomoto, and you would be?"

"Syaoran Li." My mouth seemed to be running on its own, seeing as how my brain had shut down a long time ago.

Straightening her outfit and fixing the ornaments in her hair a bit, she smiled again. "Well it's been a pleasure meeting you, Li-san. Best wishes." As she turned to leave, I instinctively grabbed her arm.

"Yes?" her voice was patient but I could detect a tiny trace of annoyance. "The restroom is to your left, Li-san."

"I just wanted to tell you…to tell you…" I cleared my throat.

_So many things to say, so many promises that broke… And I have to find a way to condense all that into one single sentence! _Her husband called her name from across the name.

…_In a ten-second time limit. _

--

Sakura stared at Syaoran's retreating back, ignoring Yukito's calls from across the room. Her eyes remained fixated on the spot that he stood just a few seconds ago.

The lantern lights in the room bounced off the piece of jade in her hands, making the stone wink roguishly under the radiance. Her fingers tightened around the necklace and nearly choked the trinket with its grip.

Finally after what seemed like an eternity her body began to move subconsciously back to the dining room, her feet feeling as if they were bound by shackles. A few minutes later, she was once again seated next to her husband sampling the fish as if nothing had happened.

But for the rest of the night, no matter how many times she muttered the "_smile, drink, laugh, praise, smile_"mantra under her breath, the corners of her mouth simply refused to budge.

--

**Approbation is appreciated, flames are forgiven, constructive criticism is coveted, and reviewers are revered.**


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